It’s 3:00pm. I’m drinking a glass of red wine and watching the sequel to Center Stage. I’m not finished with the credits yet, but it feels remarkably like the Step It Up movies, and I’m left wondering who is going to utter the immortal words: “I am the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet
I’m sitting in a dance studio– not any studio; the studio. I can’t begin to count the hours I spent in here– required hours, stolen hours, all hours. Sense memory took over as I walked across the floor. Same creaks. Same smell. Same sense of wonder even if age has made some of those possibilities
I have three red shirts in my closet. For most people, this is probably not a stunning development. For me, it is practically as revolutionary as the color associations have been. I have black clothes, and when I want to spice it up, I move to gray or tan. Seriously. I’ve flirted with blues, but
The Wonderful World of Kate If I’m faced with the option of doing anything in the world, I sit down and watch television because having all the options are almost as paralyzing as having none. When trying to decide between cleaning and reading a book, I will always choose reading a book (even if people
I’m finding that event planning and dating in Los Angeles are remarkably similar. In both situations, there is so much going on in the city that it’s difficult to get anyone’s attention in a positive way. Of course, it’s still easy to get attention in a negative way, but that’s rarely what you really want
This weekend I went to a club in Santa Ana to hear a rock band called Three Thirteen. Half of you reading that sentence are thinking, “Yeah, so?” Half of you reading this are saying, “Bullshit, you would never go to a club and certainly not all the way out in Santa Ana—prove it.” Ok…
It’s 1:40AM, and I am awake. No, awake doesn’t quite cover it. There is none of that sleepy quality where I hug the pillow tight, burrow further into the covers and know that additional slumber is not out of my reach. This is more of a jarring awareness that my body has decided enough is
It takes precisely 15 days to lose all track of what day it is and to stop registering the passage of time. I know this because this morning, it took me nearly 10 minutes to suss out what day it is… and I don’t mean the date. Without my daily, highly regimented schedule, I’ve fallen
As you all know, I am delightfully oblivious to the people around me most of the time. Absent professors have nothing on me. However, from time to time, I will hear something during the course of running an errand (or saving the world) that just sets me off. I thought today was one of those